


the final hour

by 1001TalesFicFest, stanyeol



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Barebacking, M/M, Nipple Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-05 09:56:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17322824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001TalesFicFest/pseuds/1001TalesFicFest, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stanyeol/pseuds/stanyeol
Summary: Bottle Message #S7all he wanted was to hear his name from junmyeon’s lips.





	the final hour

**Author's Note:**

> i deviated from the prompt a bit; i’m so sorry, OP. i hope this would still work for you :’(  
> (i'm also sorry for yixing's tattoos who weren't featured as much as i should've)  
> this could be longer (and more developed) most likely but life got in the way and i couldn’t get it longer :((( so let’s just play choose-your-own-ending with sulay’s unlabeled, weird relationship, and developing feelings.

he never knew that grief was like fire.

it starts small—a quick, instantaneous natural reaction to some sort of harsh friction that was deliberately created. then it crawls, it creeps, it slithers down to all your doors without knocking. it doesn’t matter if the room is empty or occupied—it kicks down the doors, then just decides to _destroy_. everything in its path is burned, eviscerated, with only scraps and shells left. life has abandoned the building; death has reigned, waving its banner in the hot, breezeless air.

it suffocates, chokes, and fills your lungs with ash. you cannot breathe. you’re not _allowed_ to breathe. in a matter of seconds, you see your life leaving—your existence left meaningless, seemingly minute and trivial in the presence of demise. 

grief was always seen as a consequence of loss, the normal, _natural reaction_ to it. this was always the expectation, and in this scenario, a prediction has come true. he should be rejoicing; life has become predictable, another pattern added, diffusing the cloud of coincidences.

but really, how could he? no one told yixing just how much it _burns_.

he really wished people had the conscience to inform him, because as he hears— _eavesdrops_ —on him and _her_ , he wished death has come too. but the fire of grief was futile; it crawled on his skin, tickling him with pain, letting him taste death but never really taking him. at its best, it was playful teasing, and at its worst, it was cowardice.

he hopes someone would be brave enough to end him now.

he scrubbed the floors with greater force. bracing his grip on the long wooden handle, he pushed the mop further into the floor and _scrubbed_. his shift started at around ten, and a quick glance at his watch betrayed the fact that he had been there for around three hours already. the floor was already spotless actually, the smooth cement missing its usual grime, instead gleaming nicely. but he refused to stop, and get out of the room he was cleaning. it was the room directly beside _his_ —no, _their_ —room, where moans and grunts spilled from their walls to yixing’s. these fuelled the throbbing anger that vibrated under his skin, one he didn’t have a right to feel, but he let it. he _encouraged_ it, if his three hours of masochism were to be taken in consideration. he stood there, in one spot, and just angrily _scrubbed._

he didn’t even make a sound. in fact, he refused to. somehow, in the midst of the fury he was drowning in, he thought that making a sound would betray the truth—that he was _there_ , willingly subjecting himself to torture.

in the face of loss, he tethered his feet to the ground and refused to run.

now, _he burns._

“fuck, jun!” the unknown girl from next door moaned. yixing heard a crash in the room, probably a body slammed into its thin walls. it was easily confirmed though; it was her slammed into the wall, if the loud grunt that came after was to be considered. he heard a man laugh as if in response to her, and his mind got tempted to go to treacherous paths. was he smiling at her? what kind of smile was he giving—was it the fake one where his cheeks do not even get much attention, or the one that completely drowned his eyes? how much of it was real? (how much of what he gave yixing was real?)

his fingernails buried themselves on the lower part of his palm, as he gripped the mop’s handle tighter, as much as he possibly could. the mop was probably near its breaking point already, if it was going to endure being the end of yixing’s anger. but he didn’t care. there he stood, feet fixed to the floor, unmoving while his entire body threatened to shut itself down. his vision was getting hazy, blobs of darkness were appearing at the fraying edges. he was also vaguely aware that he wasn’t breathing properly, choosing to take in air in long bursts instead of in a steady rhythm. 

his entire system was rising down from the overdrive yixing has pushed it towards, and yet he still wouldn’t stop.

the slapping of skin and the animalistic moans and grunts intertwined with one another, serving as a soundtrack for yixing’s thoughts. the mix of _his_ deep voice and her light, pitchy whines filled the air, effortlessly transferring from the next room to yixing’s. it teased him, threading itself into a song that served as the backdrop to the mockery that he was enduring—the mockery that he has brought to himself. but he allowed it. as every second passed that he stood still, he _encouraged_ it.

they were getting closer, yixing could tell. her whines were getting higher, the bangs caused by the thrusts were getting sloppier, and more moans and grunts filled the air instead of words. 

“say my name,” _his_ deep voice commanded, slightly stirring him from his thoughts, getting his attention. and when it came to him, he felt his stomach getting heavier. 

in the next room, she screamed, “jun!”

but yixing dared to whisper, “suho.”

 

* * *

 

yixing got out before they did, running from the inner halls of _symphony_ like a madman. he ran on his tiptoes, trying his hardest not to make a sound, despite knowing that the thumping bass outside would be enough to cover his tracks. still, he fed himself with the idea that _he might hear_. silly him. as if he would even _listen_.

the floor was filled with people, letting yixing blend in seamlessly. bodies gyrated on one another, and there were even a few that tried to do so on him. but he moved away quickly, brandishing his basket of cleaning supplies as a sort of badge. still, he could feel the lingering stares translating themselves as goosebumps at the nape of his neck. there was even a few “appreciative,” or at least he tried to think so, squeezes on his butt. he just immediately moved out of their way.

he felt drained. the fight was lost in him already. he just wanted the night to be over. but he knew, he just _knew_ , that the day wouldn’t come until . . . until he came until he finally had the courage to leave.  

yixing braved treading through the dance floor to go to the most familiar place in _symphony_ for him—the bar. he placed his basket of supplies on the bar’s counter, informing heechul, the bartender, of his presence. the older man, who was cleaning one of the glasses with a piece of cloth, just looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

“hey, kid,” heechul started. he looked unimpressed with yixing, who had let himself into one of the stools.

“i’m not a kid,” he answered back immediately.

“fine. let’s pretend it wasn’t my brother that made your fake i.d. to get into _symphony_ in the first place,” heechul offered. he set down the glass that he was cleaning. “honestly, what are you still doing here? i can’t believe you got old man soo man to give you a job here. don’t they have grocery stores near your place?”

yixing smiled at that, showing his dimples. but even under the overhead red-and-blue lights, it was easy to see that there was no happiness present in his eyes. “what can i say? i’m cute,” he said, cocking his head to the side.

heechul snorted. “yeah. as cute as an second grader would be.” the older man let his eyes travel on the expanse of yixing’s chest. he had worn a loose t-shirt tonight, with its neckline low, letting his numerous tattoos peek from the fabric. it was the only time he could let them be seen and be free, as his high school had strict rules forbidding it. but as he always believed, rules always did exist to be bent; breaking them was for lazy people, hence the timed schedule of his tattoo’s appearance.

“like what you see?” he teased. it was a tried and tested question. other people would blush profusely at him, embarrassed, while some would just look away, in denial of being caught staring. either way, it was the best way to tell people to _fuck_ _off_. and with what he could feel heechul would ask next, it was what he needed the man to do.

but heechul just fixed him with an unamused stare. “kid, you’re a kid. does your mom even know about your tattoos?” the man then laughed and slapped his forehead, as if he had just caught himself being silly. “oh, how stupid of me. she probably paid for the tattoos, didn’t she?” he asked drily.

yixing bent over the bar counter to steal a shot of . . . whatever . . . that heechul had prepared for another customer. he made a show of downing the shot, standing, with his head up. 

“yah!” heechul protested, to which yixing just smacked his lips in response.

the warm, smooth burn of the alcohol climbed down his throat, keeping the tension in his stomach company. it offered little distraction, but still, distraction nonetheless. this made yixing smile, and apparently, heechul more frustrated.

“kid, go home,” the bartender told him, exasperated.

“i don’t want to,” he replied. “i’m enjoying this place.” the thumping of bass, alongside with everyone dancing, made yixing feel . . . not happy, but at the very least, _light_. inside the hallowed walls of _symphony_ , where bodies rubbed against each other, _along_ with each other, to strange music no one can even recall after, yixing felt the atmosphere of sheer _opportunity_ and he basked in it. the notion of endless possibilities, of never-ending open doors tickled him, touching some unexplored aspect of him inside.

he never believed in coincidences, choosing to rely on some unseen master plan written for every individual in the planet. he wasn’t particularly religious, but now that he thought of it, surely with that large number of followers, there must be some shred of truth, right? when there was smoke, there was fire, right—or whatever that saying was. so while he still dragged himself to church every sunday, he still slept comfortably with the idea of someone in the heavens, lurking at him.

but that doesn’t mean that yixing was going to live his life in full obedience. whoever was above, he wasn’t scared of it. let them be the witness to his train wreck; it’s their loss, anyway. still, he knew that while they remained watching, there was still an invisible bucket list that they wished for him to check off from.

and staying in _symphony_? he just knew that it was part of the bucket list.

so he smiled at heechul, this one appearing more real than the first one. “i feel like i’m made to be here.” heechul just rolled his eyes at him.

whatever yixing drank had been strong, or maybe his willpower was just weak, but nonetheless, because the alcohol was doing its job, and perhaps a little too well. he felt looser, more inhibited, more _forgetful_.

or not.

it was as if more stones piled up inside his stomach, and suddenly his body was refusing to breathe again. his feet were impaled to the floor, refusing to move, refusing to show any kind of life. there he stood again, a perfect depiction of a corpse—like the one he was earlier, like the one he wished he could be _always_. his fingers tried to find something to grip as it remained splayed on the bar counter, but it found none, only the smooth surface of the fake marble.

suddenly, he was jolted awake with a warm hand squeezing the life—as if there were any—out of his hands.

“hey, kid,” heechul said, albeit with a little more urgency. the older man seemed to relax when yixing managed to look at him, and took a deep breath, as if he was preparing for what he’d say next.

yixing knew this; heechul always asked this. he braced himself; he wouldn’t feel—

“are you waiting for _him_?’ heechul asked.

it wasn’t the question that drove spikes into his chest, but the idea that no matter what happened, no matter what the circumstance was, his answer was going to be the same.

yixing simply nodded.

heechul smiled at him sadly, and returned to wiping glasses to dry them.

 

* * *

 

the bartender continued to tend to the other customers after he had left yixing alone. meanwhile, he sat on the same stool he was in earlier, stealing shots from heechul when the man wasn’t looking. it wasn’t like he was doing it very subtly, so yixing knew it wasn’t his fault anymore. heechul was just turning a blind eye on him, and fuck if he wasn’t going to exploit that.

he deserved that, at the very least, he thought. after what happened earlier, he wasn’t going to deprive himself of anything good—you have to do what you must when goodness was fleeting, that’s what he believed. 

look at him, being increasingly maudlin by the counter, alone and with an invisible barrier against anyone who was trying to hit on him. there were three who tried earlier, but maybe word spread around the drunken dance floor—he didn’t know how, but no one came to him after that. he snorted at that, unable to believe that communication worked, and seemed to be better in the darkness of the bar.

he downed another of the shots that he stole, enjoying the burning sensation of the amber liquid trickle down his throat. it was funny, now that he thought of it, how the burning of alcohol managed to extinguish the _burning_ that he had felt a while ago. the echoes of the pain that he felt were still there, but _damn_ was it easy to overlook. they were simply shadows now, while earlier they were massive blackholes who grew arms to pull him down.

right now, there was no easier thing for him but _waiting_ _for him_. it was what he was used to do anyway.

somewhere, in the small crevices of his mind, he wondered if waiting was part of the bucket list made for him. maybe that was why his life was a train wreck—it was meant to be like that from the start.

alone, with even his inhibitions abandoning him, he laughed heartily, the happiest that he let himself be in a while. god, was his life the biggest tragedy there is? and weren’t you supposed to laugh at tragedies? his english teacher told them tragedies had comedies in it too, anyway.

he laughed at that again.

“you seem happy,” a deep, familiar voice whispered behind him. his smile dropped, unable to help itself in the almost natural trepidation that he felt whenever the boy was present. still, he knew exactly who it was.

the boy’s chin rested against his shoulder, and released a heavy, warm breath on his neck. “what’s so funny?” the boy asked, his face not even a few inches from yixing’s neck.

now this—this was part of what he was used to. yixing returned the smile on his face, and he was too far gone to even think if the grin he plastered on his face was genuine or not. (if it wasn’t, that said a lot about him. if it really were, after _earlier_ , that said _more_ about him.) he turned to his side and shamelessly faced the boy. 

he still reeked of sex, and _her_ , but yixing chose to center his attention on how, even with the dim light of the overhead lamps, the boy’s heavily-lidded eyes solely focused on him. his gaze were on yixing’s lips, as if trying to test them, to _gauge_ them—a stupid thing considering they’ve done this tango dozens of time already. with their faces only a few inches apart, the boy must’ve smelled the alcohol on his breath.

he wrinkled his nose. “you drank?” the boy asked, his gaze suddenly snapping to lock eyes with Yixing.

he didn’t know how, but somehow he got the courage to smirk. “just a little bit. what about it? angry?” (—that he didn’t wait? idly? standing still?) he swallowed down the treacherous thoughts that littered his mind and moved closer to the boy, who had the gall to step back, perhaps in shock. “what are you going to do, jun—“

the boy suddenly pushed yixing, making him sit directly on the barstool. the lust that clouded his gaze earlier seemed to be replaced with anger, and as he stepped forward in yixing’s direction, he has the fleeting thought of acting scared. but he didn’t. perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was plain stupidity, but his tongue felt loose today, showing hints of the anger that he had brimming inside earlier. (but deep inside, he knew it was his heart at fault).

“i told you not to call me that,” the boy snarled, poking yixing deep into the chest. “that’s not my name.”

yixing threw his head back, and laughed. “funny. that wasn’t what i heard her moan earlier,” he commented.

a faint glimmer of surprise flew on the boy’s face, but he immediately had it locked under a stoic expression. then, the boy raised one eyebrow at him, as if challenging him. “you heard?” he asked. then he moved closer to yixing, almost as close as they were earlier. but just like earlier, yixing refused to budge and move away. he wasn’t the angry one in this scenario. instead he remained unmoving from where he suddenly was pushed, cocked his head to the side as if to rise to the boy’s challenge. 

yixing saw the fire starting up again in the boy’s eyes, but it was immediately stifled by his attempt of flirting with him. _ah_ , _well_. at least the boy was self-aware enough to know that no matter what happened, it wasn’t like _he_ was going to be the one on the losing end. after all, he wasn’t the one who had waited alone for hours.

“why,” the boy whispered, dangerously close to yixing’s ear. he felt the slight shudders trickling down his spine—this was part of what _was_ familiar, so he welcomed it. he knew how things would end anyway. “are you jealous?” the boy asked, almost purring in his ear.

it was like a script. they’d go after others, but they’d still go after each other. it was their story, probably written in some stars the heaven has decided to long retire, because honestly, this wasn’t what he would consider as a dream come true. still, he couldn’t deny the nagging feeling that _this_ was _part_ of the _list_.

“why should i? you’re here, aren’t you?” yixing tossed back, turning sideways to meet the boy’s gaze. the boy was smiling at him now.

see—all he had to do was follow the script.

“she wasn’t that good, _lay,_ ” the boy told him, laughing a bit. “let’s go? i wasn’t satisfied.”

“sure, _suho_.”

as yixing let himself be dragged outside the building, he just knew—the worst burns of grief happened when it was _yourself_ that you’ve lost.

 

* * *

 

they remained silent in the car ride home. “home” was around an hour and a half away, a small town in the outskirts of the city. while the city boasted of _symphony_ , the only bar that they’ve managed to get in because of their shoddily-made fake ids, home had nothing to brag about. their small town was . . . for a lack of a better word, _small_. it was ordinary, filled with grass, and frankly, yixing was not in the right mindset to give it the proper description it deserved. not like it deserved any. all it had was a series of old buildings from the hundreds of years ago, miles of outstretched farm lands, and an entire group of people who did not know how to chase _possibility_ , betraying the human thirst for _more_ experience.

yixing hated it. with the vastness of the world outside, why would you willingly let yourself have so _little_? god, was he grateful the city was only an hour and a half away.

their town and all of its hallmarks appeared as if they only exist to contest all the joys that the city brought. in fact, it was perhaps the antithesis of the city, where he thrived—where _lay_ and _suho_ thrived. once they arrived back in their town, they were back to who they were—yixing zhang, the high school weirdo-slash-loser (what can he say—he was a multitasker) and junmyeon kim, student council president, batch valedictorian candidate (ridiculous—he was a sure win), and vice mayor’s son (soon-to-be mayor, if rumors were to be believed).

they had no business with each other.

but thankfully, lay and suho had.

so while they were outside the confines of their home town, they let this _business_ reign. it was, after all, the only time it could even _exist_.

junmyeon never let him—them—use their real names with each other. yixing only asked once, and the boy had only said, “ _just so it’s going to be easier for us_.” and that was it. no more protests, no more contradictions—he let his stupid nickname that he picked up from watching meteor garden when he was a kid be the one that rolled off the other boy’s tongue _during_ , as if that were enough to disguise the fact that he was yixing zhang and he was fucking _junmyeon kim_.

still, junmyeon was right—like he always was. it _was_ easier for them. whenever he was at school, and they weren’t talking—like they always did—there were no awkwardness when they met each other again. inside the hallways of their godforsaken school, they were to be strangers, but outside, they were _lay_ and _suho_ , rivals to bonnie and clyde, two peas from the rotting pod that refused to detach from each other. 

(inside the confines of his mind, however, he allowed himself to get rid of the pretenses and at last, be true to himself: he was yixing, he was junmyeon, and _they still refused to be apart_.)

junmyeon told him before that _suho_ meant guardian, and before, he used to mock the boy endlessly about it. it was reeking of pretentiousness, he’d claim. but now, he couldn’t deny that there was truth in that. he had been in the car for around an hour, silent, with only junmyeon’s hand on his lap to remind him that he was still _there_ , but he felt safe. like there was an end game, like their whole tumble together down the drain had direction.

he was _suho_ alright, but no one said he had to be guided to the _right_ path.

the right path would be to go home, tell his mother that he hadn’t been at the byun’s house for their “group project,” and confess that he had been lying to her for a year now, almost. but as junmyeon steered off course, away from the direction of both their houses, he suddenly couldn’t feel anything that was more _right_ that this.

“this” referred to their place—a small, dilapidated building that they saw in the outskirts of their small town. fortunately, the building was abandoned, and no one seemed in a hurry to try and fix it. it didn’t help that yixing spread news about how haunted it was, anyway. no one batted an eye at that, nor did they muster up any desire to take the building. there was honestly nothing to be desired with the building. it wasn’t even painted, _hell_ , it wasn’t even finished. there were still exposed rods in the foundation at the back, and the cement bricks used weren’t even masoned. there were no windows, only two huge holes in both floors, and yixing counted themselves lucky that it at least had a door, and functional stairs. it was probably a good thing that the second floor, no matter how bare it was, was sturdy enough to support the couch and small bed that he and junmyeon smuggled in one day. 

their building broke the earlier monotony of the dark, gloomy trees that always seemed to be weirdly inviting, standing in the middle of a barren field proudly, as if it knew that it believed that it was the only thing that bore beauty in the desolate place that it was already. yixing liked that—that _their_ building stood there, pretending. what a perfect way to encapsulate _them_.

the moon peeked out from behind the building, seemingly like a crown standing atop its head. it looked like it was trying to compete, showing that she was the most beautiful there, but what another lie that was. the moon, trying to boast about her beauty, when she just glowed stolen light from the sun. another imposter. guess there was a party for liars tonight— _lay_ and _suho_ certainly met the requirements.

yixing was suddenly filled with bitterness, but trying to make sure that junmyeon won’t worry, he tried his best not to make it ghost across his face. he focused his attention to the bright light that the moon offered, and wondered how much of it was from the sun herself. maybe she was near in making a comeback; it was too dark to take a glimpse of his watch, but he knew that the night might be over soon. 

and when dawn comes and the truth of the sun has come upon them, they would be reminded of what they aren’t, of what they couldn’t be, of what _lay and suho_ didn’t deserve. the bright lights of the sun always exposed the dishonest, didn’t they?

beside him, junmyeon cleared his throat, stirring yixing from his thoughts. the other boy had already parked, and was probably just waiting for him to speak. he looked at the other boy, and saw a silent question hidden in his eyes. 

yixing nodded. “let’s go, suho. the night’s still young.” he got out of the car, with the other following.

suho smiled at him and took his hand.

 

* * *

 

theirs wasn’t a movie.

there were no moody lighting trying to set the tone, no mysterious bars of light peeking through the windowpanes and decorating their bodies with stripes of shadows, no symphony of colors trying to paint their story as colorful as the city’s skyline. the air that surrounded was quiet, except from the sharp intakes of breath—from who, yixing, no, _lay_ couldn’t even discern anymore. no cloyingly cheesy soundtrack accompanied the dance of their touches as they explored each other’s bodies, pushing whatever they had to the mandatory emotionally charged climax expected from them.

because theirs wasn’t a movie—there was no script, dialogue, or even anything close to _routine_. _whatever_ they had was a jumbled mess, reflected in the haphazard mix of their sighs, gasps, and whimpers—and they weren’t going to pretend like they were. they acknowledged who they were, or at least who they claim to be—if yixing would be proud of anything, at least their pretense weren’t overlooked and hidden. they were liars, but not traitors. 

under the fake glow of the moon peering in from the huge hole in the wall claiming to be a window, lay let out a moan, and screamed _their_ lies for the world to witness.

lay cradled suho’s head as the other boy ferociously dove into him and chased his attempts to breathe with more kisses. he gripped the other’s hair and pulled, which he seemed to like judging from the smile that ghosted his face. 

“lay,” suho grunted, momentarily stopping to whisper against his lips. he made a small whimper in response that suho seemed to acknowledge, letting two of his fingers travel to the side of lay’s hip, stroking it gently. 

suho rose from him, propping himself up from their thin mattress to look at him. there was a question in his eyes, and like he always did, lay had a hard time of answering—not because he didn’t know what to, but because there was no perfect way of how to. suho could ask him so many questions, and lay would always remain the same, answering _yes_. it didn’t even have to be a matter of agreeing; all lay knew was that no matter what the other asked, his entire system screamed its submission. it was in that sobering realization that he saw the _whatever_ they had in what it truly is: _yixing_ ’s performance of a man in a descent to madness, with him being lay was just the costume that he wore.

there was no doubt anymore for yixing in how he stood in their entire enterprise. where junmyeon kim kept drawing lines for the both of them, he erased those that the other gave him. yixing and lay were one and the same for him—no more borders, no more restrictions, no more disguises . . . that is, for himself. in the comforts of the spaces of his mind, _lay_ was nothing but a compromise to keep junmyeon, to have a tiny bit of the bare minimum that junmyeon gave to him as _suho_. 

and whatever the feelings that fluttered in his chest and remained unlabeled—may it be love, delusion, or downright insanity, yixing was controlled by them, enabling the ridiculous willingness to always, _always_ accept the scraps of junmyeon’s affections. 

so when _yixing_ looked up, met the other boy’s gaze directly, and raised one eyebrow, it wasn’t him challenging suho, but _submitting_.

suho gripped the side of yixing’s hip, silently asking for more attention. yixing hummed in response.

“lay,” suho started again. “are you okay with . . .?” he trailed off, looking downwards to their pressed-up crotches. instantly, yixing realized what the other was asking. he’d laugh, but the implications behind the question sparked pangs of hurt in his chest—the same ones he thought he’d already extinguished earlier that evening. “i already did . . . it. earlier, i mean,” suho reasoned even more.

yixing moved to sit up against the bed’s headboard, prompting suho to move away from him too. in the darkness of the room, lit by the moon’s fake glow, yixing looked at suho, who looked slightly . . . nervous? well, that was surprising, considering that no matter who he was, suho _and_ junmyeon kim were usually very confident. 

“hey,” yixing commented drily. he poked the other boy on the cheek. “i’m not rejecting you, idiot. if you wanted me to bottom, why don’t you just ask nicely? why beat around the bush? and why not talk about it directly—we’re far from being blushing virgins, suho.”

the other boy cracked an easy smile at him, moving closer to him. he could feel the suho’s familiar warmth radiating off of him, which made the room even hotter even though the cold night air blasted through the room’s sad excuse of a window. suddenly, yixing felt more hot, and he became more glaringly aware of the layers of clothing that both of them, but more importantly he, was wearing. seemingly ignoring his discomfort, suho moved closer to him, not stopping until they were pressed almost as close as they were together. 

suho lounged comfortably on the bed, resting his back against the headboard like yixing. but while yixing played around with the blossoming nerves that have made their appearance again for him, suho settled already, his earlier nervousness dissipating already as it would seem. he leaned on yixing’s shoulder, letting his body rest against the other boy, while he let their thighs and arms press closely side-by-side with one another. personal space was not a concept that was entertained, and yixing felt his jittery stomach grow more wilder. a bit conscious, he brought his legs closer to his chest, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans in the process.

hook, line, and sinker—because suho noticed this display of nerves. the boy took one of the hands that yixing had rested on his knees and intertwined their fingers. playing around, with his thumb rubbing the back of yixing’s hand, suho looked to him and whispered with his mouth mere centimeters from yixing’s ear. “blushing virgins? you’re the one with the sweaty palms, lay.”

yixing stole his hand away from suho’s grasp, which the other responded with a laugh. it was a deep, rumbling, and throaty one, far from the high, light-hearted laughs that he was accustomed of hearing from the boy. yixing couldn’t discern if that were a good thing or not, if that were _real_ or not.

“it’s genetic,” yixing reasoned out, staring at the darkness in front of him. he refused to look back at suho and meet the boy’s eyes; somehow, even if it were true that they _were_ far from blushing virgins, he didn’t want to come face-to-face with the other boy. perhaps he felt too exposed, too vulnerable—as if one look from the other would see exactly the kind of feelings that yixing were harboring, the exact kind of feelings that he had no permission of having.  

but while he struggled with this internal dilemma, suho just took it as a sign of the yixing’s worsening nerves. he took yixing by the chin and faced him so that they’d meet eye-to-eye. “aww,” he mused. “i didn’t know you were the shy type, lay.” suho moved closer to his face, only stopping when their lips were an inch apart, letting yixing feel every ghost of the other’s breaths. “don’t worry. i promise to be really, _really_ nice _for_ you.”

suddenly, suho retracted from him, even after what seemed like hours of getting into yixing’s space. “wait,” he started, sounding slightly concerned, although yixing could hear that it was just a ruse. “let’s backtrack. i don’t want to pressure you, or anything. maybe you aren’t up for it. maybe you aren’t ready. maybe you can’t do it.” suho’s mask of fake concern slowly morphed into that of a cheshire cat’s evil grin. despite the darkness of the room, there was a familiar glint of maliciousness that yixing could notice in suho’s eyes. “maybe you should just go home, and i go find myself someone else to take care of me tonight, huh? after all, it’s not my fault you probably couldn’t get it up tonight.” suho put one hand on his chin, as if in deep thought. “was it the alcohol from earlier?” he waved an absent hand in yixing’s face. “ah, who cares. hmm. maybe that sophomore kid—what’s his name—sehun? yeah. sehun oh. maybe he’d be able to take care of me tonight, since you can’t.”

yixing let all of his objections about what suho said, all of his complaints about being goaded and _manipulated_ die in his throat, pinned suho to the bed, and crashed their lips together.

it hurt a bit, to be quite honest, as their teeth practically crashed together, but yixing didn’t mind it. based from the hums emanating from the smaller boy under him, suho didn’t mind too. in fact, yixing knew for a fact that the other liked it too. he always did like it better when yixing got rougher, moreso when he manhandled him. taking that idea, he let one hand travel down the front of suho’s button-down shirt and pulled it apart forcefully, trying to get it to open. maybe it was truly a weak shirt, or yixing used too much force than intended, but it fell apart easily, leaving him better access to suho’s chest.

he moved himself in between suho’s legs, even pulling one leg to rest it against his thigh, to have more access to the boy. there was a slight hitch to suho’s breath, making yixing smile against the other’s lips. he couldn’t help it; he gloated. “still going to call that sehun?” he whispered lowly.

“why not? maybe he’d get it done faster,” suho retorted, as if he were unaffected, when the rapidly turning erratic rise and fall of his chest betrayed the opposite. yixing ignored the jab and dove again against suho’s lips, taking advantage of one of the boy’s gasps to slot his tongue into suho’s mouth. as their kiss grew more heated, the more suho tried to get the upper hand against him, fighting for dominance. but yixing didn’t let him, and instead moved so that their crotches were pressed directly against each other. he ground against the other boy, feeling satisfied when suho let out a half-stifled moan in response.

he bit down on the boy’s lip, eliciting surprise on the other. stilling for a moment, he whispered, “you didn’t tell me you were the shy one, suho. come on, i want to hear you.” while trailing down kisses on the underside of suho’s jaw, which yixing knew _based on experience_ was one of the boy’s most sensitive parts, he let the hand that wasn’t holding onto suho’s thigh pull his shirt even wider open. he blew hotly on a spot down suho’s ear, making the boy squirm because of the sensation. satisfied, yixing teased this part again, this time kissing it wetly, determined to leave a mark.

yixing let his free hand pull suho’s shirt, exposing the boy’s chest and shoulders. he let his hand travel the expanse of the boy’s body, stopping near one of his nipples. he flicked the hardened nub with his thumb, to which suho groaned loudly, seemingly learning from what he said before. knowing how sensitive the boy was there, he lightly scraped the dull nail of his thumb against suho’s nipple, circling it after. he moved away from the now-abused spot down the boy’s ear and went to suho’s other nipple. as his free hand played around with one side, he let his mouth do the work in the other one. he latched onto it, sucking hard and circling it with his tongue.

meanwhile, suho repaid him with moans that were starting to get louder and louder. the boy was getting increasingly more desperate it would appear, pulling yixing closer to him while grinding down their crotches harder. one of suho’s hands tangled with the back of yixing’s head, pulling his hair. he resisted, driving his tongue along suho’s nipple even more and his hand continued playing with the other. suho’s other hand absently clutched at his shirt, pulling at it both to find more leverage and contact.

the hand resting on suho’s thighs traveled to grip his inner thigh, spreading the boy’s legs even more. with one hard roll of his hips, yixing ran his fingers across the other boy’s crotch, now with an unmistakable bulge desperate to be freed. 

yixing looked up; suho looked absolutely undone, with his eyes closed in pleasure and mouth parted, moaning loudly. as he was near the boy’s chest, he could hear the loud thumps of his heartbeat, together with his more erratic breathing. encouraged by how suho reacted to him, yixing pressed his fingers against suho’s crotch, rubbing his bulge despite the barriers of the boy’s jeans.

“w-wait,” suho said weakly, pushing down on yixing’s shoulder. “lay,” he said, speaking louder.

yixing moved away from the boy, who struggled to try and compose himself. suho’s chest was a mess of marks and bites, with the area surrounding both of his nipples red and abused. his lips looked worn down too, while his neck and collarbone bore the most evidence of what they had been doing. his shirt was broken, most likely, as it hang open and barely left intact, leaving suho almost completely exposed. truly, as the smaller boy struggled to catch his breath, yixing just got more turned on. who knew that _he_ could be doing this to junmyeon kim—that the boy would react like this?

he immediately pulled off his shirt and threw it aimlessly on the floor. he was going to struggle next with his jeans, but when he saw how suho’s attention were on him—more particularly on his chest—he had the better idea of getting the boy naked first.

yixing dove back into junmyeon’s space and pulled the shirt off of suho finally and threw it to join his on the floor. he gripped the boy on his hips and manhandled him to pin under him, making suho squeak in the process.

“aww, aren’t you a cutie?” yixing couldn’t help but commented. despite the darkness of the room, he could see suho’s cheeks getting redder by his statement. the boy only muttered a powerless “shut up” before letting yixing do what he wanted.

he forcefully popped the buttons of suho’s jeans, while one hand catered to the boy’s bulge, pressing his hand against it. he pulled the zipper down almost angrily, and pulled suho’s underwear and jeans down in one hard tug. getting the boy’s pants off of him took a bit of a struggle that made him falter a bit, not used to that much exercise, but the excitement in his chest went burned further when he finally was able to throw the discarded clothing on the floor. and when he looked back at suho, naked in front of him, legs spread open, _eagerly waiting_ for him, he had no regrets.

suho tried to prop himself up, probably wanting to get a better glimpse of yixing taking off the remainder of his clothes. seeing the boy’s distress, yixing took one of the pillows and put it under suho’s back. now, both of them were as naked as the day they were born, and he couldn’t help but stop for a little while to appreciate the view that greeted him. suho’s cock stood proudly against the boy’s stomach, flushed and colored an angry red as it leaked pre-cum from its head. as yixing moved closer to the other boy, suho moved to grasp his cock in his hand, but he quickly slapped it away. suho whined.

“tsk,” he commented, ignoring the boy’s protests. “i thought you wanted someone to take care of you?” he took suho’s cock in his hand, and flicked his thumb against the leaking head, to which the boy grunted.

yixing could see the strain on the muscles of suho’s abdomen, as the boy clutched the bed’s thin bedsheets. “f-fuck you,” the boy grunted. “you fucking t-tease.” yixing smiled at this, seeing it as a challenge. he took his free hand near suho’s face and without warning, inserted three fingers in the boy’s mouth. as if on instinct, suho started sucking his fingers. once it he deemed them wet enough, he pulled them away harshly from the boy, feeling more satisfied when he heard a small whine of protest leave suho.

he raised one eyebrow and cocked his head. feeling even more emboldened, and frankly, a bit more disgusting, he tapped his wet fingers on suho’s plump cheek to get his attention.

the boy chased his hand with his lips, as if trying to suckle it again. yixing smirked. “guess you won’t be needing that sehun tonight?” he traced suho’s lips, to which the boy let his tongue dart out and lick yixing’s fingers. suho was probably going to dive in and suck him again when yixing decided to play with him more.

he took his wet hand, and gathered more of the pre-cum on suho’s tip and gripped the base of suho’s cock. yixing felt a wave of bitterness rush through him, wondering if the girl from earlier were able to do this too. if she took suho by the hand and pleasured him too. still, he doubted she was able to garner such reaction like he was doing right now. but yixing was only human, so he gripped suho’s cock tighter than he should, and tugged.

the boy wordlessly moaned, swallowed by the sensitivity that he was probably feeling. still, yixing was merciless. as he stroked suho and played around with the head of his cock, he let his free hand fondle suho’s balls, rubbing them and offering them heat. 

“l-lay, d-don’t . . .” suho grunted, complaining, but yixing continued. if the boy truly had contentions, he would’ve used their safeword, but clearly, suho was having the time of his life. the boy struggled to find some sort of leverage, letting his hands settle on yixing’s biceps, squeezing tightly. “n-not too much,” suho moaned. “i don’t want to c-come yet.”

he might have noticed that both of yixing’s hands were on him, and that he, despite being as hard as suho was, was being neglected. suho tried to take yixing’s cock into his hands to offer him also pleasure, but like he did earlier, yixing slapped his hand away. instead, he moved closer to suho and took his hand off the boy, to which he whined, complaining.

“hey, no, unfair, i just—“

yixing shut him up by pressing both of their cocks together, gripping them with both of his hands, and stroking them together. the combined fluids of both of their pre-cum allowed him to have better glide, while the friction that it resulted was probably enough to make them come together. but that wasn’t the point of tonight, and yixing knew that. still, he took a moment to admire their cocks lined together, as he rolled his hips in response to suho’s grinding which was starting to lack rhythm. their sizes weren’t far different from one another; where suho had more girth, yixing had more length. they were perfectly complementary to one another—perfect since they both liked to switch and exchange roles anyway.

“l-lay,” suho started breathlessly, moaning. “if you don’t stop, i’m gonna—“

yixing moved away from him and grabbed the lube and condoms that he knew they still had hidden on the small table near their bed. knowing what was about to happen next, suho spread his legs wider, while clutching his fingers on their bedsheets in an effort to stave off his release. he leaned back into the pillows, waiting for yixing to get him ready. but, he moved closer to yixing and stole the condom right out of his hands.

“hey?” yixing said, confused.

however, suho was calm, and threw the packet aimlessly someplace in the dark room. “check-ups were last weekend, and we’re both clean. do it without, lay.”

yixing remained confused. no condoms? it’s not like they didn’t have other partners—hell, suho had someone else warming his cock for him earlier that evening. “so?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “that was last weekend. you could’ve been with someone else—“

“i wasn’t. i mean, not this way. the other times i used condoms, so . . .” suho immediately retorted. despite the surprise, both by the fast response and the _response itself_ , yixing tried his best to school his expression in an unfazed manner. meanwhile if suho saw the surprise in yixing’s face, he gave no sign of being offended by it. not like he should, or _would_ —it’s not like they had any agreement or monogamy . . . which now that yixing thought of it—

“well, i could’ve been with someone else, you know!” yixing retorted, his voice getting higher.

suho just laughed. “yeah right.” he turned serious for a second. “i know you, zhang,” he commented.

yixing stilled. that was the first time suho—or _junmyeon?_ who was it now, anyway?—acknowledged his real name in bed. he had always been _lay_ , never anything else. to hear this while they were both naked and yixing was three steps away from fucking suho’s brains out was disconcerting, to say the least. 

he felt suho flick him on the nose. “hey. this butthole isn’t going to open up by itself, you know.”

“how romantic of you,” yixing commented drily.

“fine. my butthole, dear romeo, needs your loving touch to open up so _please hurry up_.” suho took one of the pillows and put it under him, propping himself up. as yixing took the lube into his hands and warmed it up, suho gave his cock a few extra tugs, just to keep him near the edge.

yixing let his lubed-up fingers trace the inner walls of suho’s thighs, making the boy’s breath hitch once again. he massaged it slightly, and groped it. yixing spared a glance at suho; the other boy looked as wrecked as he was already earlier. that was good news for him.

“open up?” yixing commented, as he tried to insert his index finger into suho. the other boy tensed automatically, but breathed out hard, trying to make himself comfortable. meanwhile, yixing let his finger rest just outside suho’s hole, tracing it. “so, how’s your butthole’s relationship with its father?”

the momentary surprise because of the offhand humor made suho comfortable enough for yixing to insert his finger into the boy.

“nice dirty talk,” suho commented.

yixing just hummed. he tried to insert another finger into the boy, meeting the tight ring of muscle. seems like it was quite some time before suho really did do this. the boy in question had his eyes clenched shut, trying his hardest to breathe in and out properly. he looked pained, making yixing want to backtrack, but suho just clenched shut on his fingers. in hindsight, and looking at the wince that made its way on the boy’s face, they both knew that _that_ was a bad idea.

“fuck,” suho muttered. “it’s been a while, idiot. don’t pull out and _wait_ ,” he instructed yixing, as if he didn’t know that already.

“how am i supposed to continue when you look like you’re in labor?” yixing commented. 

for a while, suho stayed silent, and yixing resisted the urge to let his hand cramp. maybe it was the hormones, but despite the minor setback, his erection was still standing proud and strong. 

after what felt like hours, suho said, “another one, go.”

yixing inserted another finger. with three fingers into suho, the boy’s wince became even more pronounced. still, yixing waited until the boy managed to get comfortable, and when suho nodded, he went ahead and moved his fingers in and out.

he fingered the boy open, scissoring him a bit to try and prepare himself for him. while yixing was far from being the largest dude out there, he knew he was still a lot to take in, especially since it has been a while for suho. hell, their dicks were similar in size—he _knew_ how it felt like when suho topped him—after a long while, especially—and it wasn’t easy.

but it was nice. 

_god, was it nice._

when yixing saw that suho was riding his fingers already, meeting his thrusts, he took his hand away from the boy. predictably, suho grunted in complaint, but yixing just bent over and kissed him to distract him. he lined his cock into the boy’s entrance, and with one quick thrust, entered him completely. while it would probably be easier to be more gentle and wait more, suho’s legs tightening around his waist was enough indicator that this was better for him. plus, he knew that this was how the boy preferred it.

he bottomed out into suho, and pulled out halfway, only to slam into him again. trying to distract the boy even more, yixing bent down near the boy’s chest and took one of his nipples into his mouth. he latched onto it, suckling, while his free hand returned to grip suho’s cock. 

“fuck,” suho moaned. “harder, lay!”

yixing played around with suho’s leaking cock. it was wetter than before, and with the way suho was meeting his thrusts, he knew that the boy was near. still, he tried to play around, pinching suho’s cock head lightly while pulling out almost entirely. then he slammed into the boy roughly in an instant.

suho repaid him with a loud moan, while his hands struggled to grab onto something. unfortunately, or _fortunately_ for yixing (to be honest, he had a thing for it), it was his back, which was now being scratched by the other boy’s fingernails. he ran his hands on yixing’s back, as he tried to sink closer onto his dick.

“fuck, zh—, i’m—“

yixing continued plowing into suho. his brain was getting clouded, and his vision was getting more hazy too. if suho was near, so was he—and after everything that had happened tonight, there were no use to trying to prolong it anymore. he knew suho was probably more sensitive already, especially after _her_ earlier that evening.

with the idea of her, yixing lost it. maybe it was the anger, the frustration, or just the sheer need to get release, but he slammed into suho more than he had ever before. the boy moaned in response, clutching him against his chest tighter.

“shit, i’m—“

he stroked the boy together with his thrusts, but he was soon getting more erratic. he was losing rhythm as he snapped his hips forward, they were close. it was soon. they just have to be—

suho finished first. white-hot liquid explored over both of their chests and stomachs as suho came down from the high. the boy, exhausted and sensitive, whimpered more as yixing continued to thrust into him. he tightened his legs’ hold on yixing, and yixing saw this as encouragement. soon, he lost all care for the boy’s sensitivity, continuing to thrust, trying to chase his high, until finally, he came.

despite the mess between them and the stickiness, yixing collapsed on top of suho, which the boy let him do so. he was exhausted; he could feel the tiredness deep into his bones. it must feel very nice to fall asleep and just wake up tomorrow, but he knew that they’d just be more comfortable. still, it would be okay if he just took a short nap, right? he’d clean them up in a bit. he’d just—

yixing was awakened from his half-slumber by a sweaty peck on his cheek. his eyes fluttered open, with suho peering down on him from his lashes.

“i volunteer your shirt as the cum rag, lay,” suho muttered before yawning. grunting, yixing tried to heave himself off of the boy and find his shirt from the floor. he groped into the darkness, trying to find his pants too, remembering that he had a handkerchief in one of the pockets. maybe that would be better, instead of bringing home a stained shirt and risk being seen by his mother. he should—

“uhm, hey?” suho called out. when yixing looked at him, the boy had his head down, his hands fidgeting near his lap. for the second time that night, suho looked nervous. it was something that yixing would never be able to be familiar with, leaving an unsettling feeling down his stomach. he wanted to ask why, but he fought the urge to do so. they weren’t _together_ —this wasn’t a movie, where they’d lie and cuddle and talk about their insecurities with one another. suho _and_ junmyeon kim, both aspects of the man that sat in front of him—they weren’t famous for seeking validation, so truly, yixing offering to do so would be a lost cause. but still, his curiosity was piqued. there was something wrong, something abnormal with what’s going on and he couldn’t place his finger on it, but he felt—

“hey . . .” suho repeated, with a small voice. then, he looked up at yixing and smiled. “thank you,” he said. suho looked like he was about to say something too, but was conflicted. there seemed like an ongoing battle inside of him, and if there was one thing about him that yixing knew, it was that the boy was as transparent as glass when he doesn’t intentionally puts his walls up. something was going on, and yixing wanted to find—

“thank you, yixing,” suho mumbled. he yawned and settled into the pillows, arranging himself so that yixing would easily wipe the spunk on his body, but comfortably enough that he could sleep.

yixing doubted that the boy was sleepy though. still, yixing felt hope blossom in his chest. he was called by his—

he just smiled and stood up to get his shirt. “thank you too, junmyeon,” he whispered back.

**Author's Note:**

> **[From the 1001 Tale's mods: Pretty please, don't forget to give some kudos and leave a comment for our writer ^-^**


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